


Wayward Son

by mseg_21



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural AU, Blood and Gore, Hunter Beverly, Hunter Richie, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mseg_21/pseuds/mseg_21
Summary: Richie Tozier is a hunter of the supernatural. For the longest time, he was completely alone after losing his entire family to vampires⎯ to monsters. Now, he has Beverly and together, they take on a case in a small town in Maine that seemed no different from every other hunt they've done. But what was supposed to be an easy gank and go, might end up changing Richie's life forever.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 25
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo everyone. I'm a huge supernatural fan and I've been working on this AU for a while so I'm really excited to finally be posting it. I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

Every hunter’s story started off differently, even if they all ended the same way⎯ with pain, revenge and death. 

Richie Tozier’s story was no exception. 

It started with his mother being killed by a vampire when Richie was only eleven years old. Then, driven by grief and anger, his father had become obsessed with monsters, dedicating his entire life to finding the one who murdered his wife⎯ to getting revenge. 

And so he became a hunter, dragging a young Richie along with him. It took him years to achieve his goal and avenge Maggie. And when he finally did it, his triumph was short lived. 

As one big final fuck you, right before he died, the vampire had bitten Richie’s father, turning him into what he despised the most. 

Wentworth had dragged himself back to the motel room where Richie and him were staying, where Richie was waiting anxiously for him, fearing that his father would not make it back⎯ not knowing that there was an even worse outcome. And that it was coming his way. 

When his father arrived, pale and sweaty, his arm a bloody mess, he told Richie what happened. And how he refused to live even a single day as a blood-sucking monster. 

Richie understood that and that was why, at the age of sixteen, with shaky hands and tears running down his face, he had to cut his father’s head off.

Just like that, Richie was completely alone⎯ with no family, in a world where monsters were no longer hidden to him. 

Pain. Revenge. Death.

Richie tried to leave the hunter life behind, but he couldn’t ignore what he knew⎯ that there were more monsters out there and that they would continue to kill innocent people, just like they killed his mom, and destroy people’s lives, just like they destroyed his father’s. Richie no longer had anything to lose and if he died protecting innocent people then at least, his life would have some kind of meaning.

And so he lived on his own for years, on the road, saving people, hunting things and afterwards, going to bed alone in shitty motel rooms, after downing bottle after bottle of whisky. 

It was a sad, lonely life. 

Until it wasn’t.

Because he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Beverly. 

They met when Richie had just turned twenty three, seven years after his father died⎯ after he lost the last member of his family. 

Richie had just pulled over at a roadside diner for a meal when he heard a truck driver catcalling and making rude gestures at a young redhead. She didn’t look much older than him. She carried only a duffel bag and looked as if she’d been living on the road for a while, just like him. There was something about her that caught Richie’s attention, something that made him leave his car, ready to show that asshole that he ought to stop bothering women, maybe rough him up a bit⎯ but he didn't get the chance to do it. 

In the time it took him to climb out of the car, Beverly had approached the man, smiling innocently at him. The man had grinned, somehow thinking that his disgusting behavior had worked like a charm. The smile didn’t last long, because as soon as she was right in front of him, Beverly broke the man’s nose with one single punch. 

"You bitch!" The man yelled, his hands covering his face, blood oozing through his fingers. "You broke my nose!"

"You asked for it." Bev said, her smile gone and her jaw clenched tightly, eyes burning with anger. "Now get the fuck out of here before I give you a broken finger to match your nose."

The man did as he was told, rushing to the restroom next to the diner, muttering curses under his breath.

Richie whooped, walking towards her. Beverly turned to face him, narrowing her eyes and taking a defensive stand. Richie understood⎯ you didn't get far on your own if you didn't distrust everyone at first.

"Damn, woman. You really know how to throw a punch."

"Yes, I do." She said and Richie could hear the silent threat in her words,  _ try anything and you're next. _

He held his hands up in defense. "Take it easy, I just came here to help you out."

"I don't need your help." 

"Yeah, I fucking saw that." Richie laughed, looking at the bathroom where the asshole had disappeared to. At that, Beverly smirked. "Now, please don't kick me, but how about I buy you lunch?"

Beverly quirked an eyebrow, cautiously. "Why?"

Richie pursed his lips. That was a good question. One that he didn’t know the answer to. All he knew was that he liked her, liked her attitude and he wanted to get to know her better. Later, he would say he felt a connection to her, like they were destined to meet, but in that moment he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Take it as a way for me to apologize on behalf of men."

Beverly snorted and Richie saw some of the barriers she had no doubt built around herself for years, start to crumble as the corners of her mouth curled up in a smile. "Fine. I won't say no to a free meal."

"Sweet." Richie grinned.

"But⎯" She pointed a menacing finger at Richie. "If you try anything, you'll be joining grease hands in the bathroom with a matching broken nose."

Richie nodded. "I believe you." He held out his hand, Beverly stared at it with caution. "I'm Richie."

She accepted it, shaking it firmly. "Beverly."

With that, she turned around and headed for the dinner, Richie following close behind.

It was awkward at first. Mystical connection or not, Richie didn't feel comfortable sharing his life story with just about anyone and it was clear Beverly felt the same way, but little by little they started to feel at ease with each other. 

Richie found out that Beverly wasn't a hunter, but just like him, she’d been on her own for years after running away from her abusive father the moment she turned eighteen. She had family, an aunt and a cousin, but they turned their backs on her when she showed up at their house. It made her realize that the only one who could protect her was herself, but it was hard when you were a teenager with no car, no home, no job and close to no money. That was how she ended up on the road, picking up jobs where she could, earning money for food and a place to live and hitching rides to a different town when she got bored or when they fired her after getting in a fight with some rude patron⎯ which happened more often than not. 

She admitted to Richie that she had done stuff she wasn't proud of, when things got hard. Stealing, mostly. Food, money, cars, anything she could get her hands on, but only from bad people ⎯cheating husbands, abusive cops, asshole 7-eleven owners. It had been a while since she was forced to do that, having managed to save a decent amount of money from her last job before they cut her off. She was even able to spare some of that money to get a bus ticket to visit the world's biggest rubber ball, she told Richie with a laugh.

"I went there too!" He said, excitedly. "It was⎯"

"Disappointing." Bev said with an eye roll at the same time that Richie grinned and said, "Amazing."

The two stared at each other before bursting into laughter. It was the first time the two of them laughed together. 

Richie told her  _ his  _ story then, careful to leave out the vampires and the hunting, at least for the time being. He admitted to doing bad things too⎯ credit card fraud, stealing, hurting people. Beverly nodded along, no judgement in her face. 

They finished their lunch and ordered dessert⎯ also on Richie. Beverly dug in, enjoying her first cheesecake in almost two years, she said. Life on the road rarely allowed for that kind of luxury. 

They exchanged stories of the towns they’d been in and realized that they had been in the same places, roughly at the same time, several times⎯ almost as if they were destined to meet. 

When they were done eating, Richie asked for the bill and took care of it. Along with it, the waitress had slipped him her number and Beverly hadn't miss that.

"She's pretty." Bev said, gesturing at her. "You should ask her back to your room."

Richie stared at the waitress, Bev was right, she  _ was  _ pretty and if he’d been on his own he might have taken her up on the offer, but right now he couldn't be bothered. 

"Nah, I'm not feeling like it." He said, standing up. Beverly hung her duffel bag over her shoulder, doing the same. "Besides, I was already going to ask you to come back to my room with me."

Beverly’s face shut down immediately and then a million expressions went through her face. First, anger⎯ at Richie, for thinking that buying her a meal would mean she owed him something and at herself, for falling for his act. Then, confusion⎯ because Richie's face was open and sincere and it didn't seem like he was just trying to get in her pants. And finally, surprise⎯ after she found herself wanting to go back with him and get to know that weird man some more. 

When she didn't answer, Richie added, "I'm not trying to get into your pants or steal from you. It's just⎯" He frowned, trying to find the right words. "I like you Bev and I can't explain why, but this is the longest conversation that I think I've had with anyone in fucking years. I told you things I've never told another soul and it felt good and I don't want you to disappear."

"Alright." Bev nodded, because weirdly she felt the same way. Richie grinned and she found herself grinning too. "But I'm taking the bed."

* * *

A week later they were still together and it was then⎯ while they shared a couple of beers, sitting on the bed, making fun of the pay-per-view porn the Fortview motel had to offer⎯ that Richie blurted out the truth about who he was and what he did. 

In that moment, and for the first time in a long time, Richie felt afraid⎯ afraid that Beverly wouldn't believe him and that she would ditch him, that he would get laughed at and called crazy. But he  _ needed  _ to tell her, he needed to talk about it with someone and Bev had proven to be a good listener. 

She let him talk, without as much as blinking an eye at his story and only when he finished, did she say something. 

And it was definitely not what Richie expected to hear. 

"Well, that's a fucking relief." 

Richie's eyes widened in surprise and he choked on his beer. "A  _ what _ ?"

"A relief." 

"A relief?" He repeated, confused. 

Beverly nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I knew you were hiding something and I guess I’ve just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm just glad you didn't turn out to be a serial killer." 

"You thought I was a serial killer?” 

"Yeah. Dude, come on. The first time we met you talked about hurting people with that gloomy look on your face. Then I walked in on you without a shirt on last night and I noticed a bunch of scars. Nasty ones. And yesterday I caught a glimpse of the trunk of your car⎯” She shook her head with a laugh. “I've never seen so many guns in my life. Or knives or chains. So it was either a serial killer or you're into some heavy kinky shit. I never imagined there would be an option number three."

Richie let out a disbelieving bark of laughter, throwing his head back. "Yeah, I can see why you’d think that." He really thought he was being careful the past week, but it was hard when you forgot what it was like to live with someone else after years of being on your own. "So you're not freaked out?"

"Not really, no." Bev shrugged. "We live in a world where fathers hurt their daughters and family turns its back on you. It's not hard to believe that there are actual monsters out there too." She looked up at him then and smiled. "It's nice to know that there are good people like you fighting them off."

Richie smiled back, a lump forming in his throat. He’d never been told that what he did was good. That it mattered. It made him feel slightly overcome with emotion. 

"And now me." Bev added, grinning.

Richie did a double take, face pulling into a frown. "Wait, what?"

Bev punched his shoulder. "Come on, man. It's like you said. We met for a reason and I think that the reason is that I was meant to become a hunter too."

"You said I was a loser for suggesting we were meant to meet."

"Yeah, well." Bev shrugged, finishing her beer. "You're still a loser, but now I believe you." 

Richie shook his head, thinking of all those hunters he’d met through the years, how they all lived hard and lonely lives⎯  _ short  _ lives. They all lost someone, if not everyone, like Richie did. Most of them didn't live long after that, usually dying in awful, painful ways. And alone. Always alone.

He wouldn’t wish that life on anyone, especially not on Beverly.

"You don’t want this, Bev. It's not a good life, it's lonely and painful and it fucking sucks."

Bev scoffed, rolling her eyes. "And my life is so much better now." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Look, I know I don't know much about this hunting business, but I do know that no matter how hard life is or how fucked up, having someone there with you can make it at least a bit easier." 

"You don’t understand, Bev. You could get hurt. You could  _ die _ ." 

Bev shrugged. "That can happen whether I'm with you or not."

Richie sighed, trying to come up with an argument that would convince Beverly that this was a bad idea. But if there was one thing he’d learned after spending a week with her, it was that she was fucking stubborn and that if set her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it. 

"Look, knowing what I know now, what's out there, I can't ignore it.” She explained and her reasons were oh so familiar to Richie. “So, you either teach me how to be a hunter or I'll go find myself a ghost and learn how to kick its ass on my own."

Richie snorted, rolling his eyes. "You can't kick a ghost's ass. They have no physical form, no ass to kick. You can only hurt them with iron and to kill them you have to salt and burn their bones."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You might know how to fight Bev, but you need to know your monsters before you try to fuck them up or you'll die." Richie let out a loud sigh. "And I don't want you to die." 

"So?" Bev inquired, narrowing her eyes at Richie. 

"So I'll show you." He said. "I'll show you how to be a hunter." 

Bev beamed at him, as if Richie had just promised to teach her how to play the guitar or offered her the world's biggest slice of cheesecake, instead of offering to train her on how to kill monsters. Then she did something that surprised Richie even more. She hugged him. 

Richie tried but failed to remember the last time someone had hugged him. Was it seven years ago when his father was still alive? Or longer than that, maybe even before his mother was killed? He was too caught up in his thoughts that he forgot to hug her back, but he forced himself to snap out of it and wrap his arms around her waist. It felt good, to hold Bev and have her hold him. 

In that moment, he was more convinced than ever that they were meant to find each other. He figured a long time ago that he would have to live his life alone forever, but maybe he wouldn't have to, maybe he could have a family again. Maybe Bev could be his family.

Before he could get emotional and Bev could give him shit for it, she laughed, swaying them from side to side. "We're going to be the best fucking hunters ever, Tozier." She said. "Casper won't know what fucking hit him."

Bev laughed and Richie couldn't help but join in.

* * *

_ Five years later _

"Richie, if you used all the hot water in this shit hole you're dead, you hear me? Dead!" Bev yelled, walking into their motel room, carrying a box of donuts and two coffees⎯ if the sugary concoction Richie liked to drink could even be considered coffee. When she left the room earlier, Richie had just locked himself in the bathroom and now, half an hour later, the water was still running. He probably looked like a raisin by now and most importantly, the hot water was probably about to run out.

"Bold of you to assume this shithole has any hot water to begin with!" 

"Bullshit." She muttered, opening the bathroom door.  They had a  _ no locked doors _ policy that they had decided on after Bev had to knock down the door to get to Richie, who had passed out in the shower from a concussion he got while fighting a werewolf. It was easier that way and right now, it allowed Bev to see that Richie was lying. "Then how do you explain the steam that’s fogging up the mirror?"

Richie squealed, not expecting to hear Bev speaking from inside the bathroom. "Privacy breach!" He cried and drew the curtain back enough for Bev to see his face. The water had plastered his hair to his head and he looked like a wet dog. He squinted at her, struggling to see without his glasses. "You're violating our policy! This isn't an emergency."

"Quit whining. You violated it first by lying. Now come out or I'll kill you."

Richie hid himself behind the shower curtain again. Bev could see the top of his head poking over the top when he straightened up. Her beanpole of a friend was too tall for most shower heads and he had to bend over to fit under most of them ⎯ though as uncomfortable as that was, it never stopped him from taking hour-long showers.

"I won't come out until you leave."

"Rich, I've seen you naked a million times.”

“You just say that because you want to see my dick.”

Bev rolled her eyes even if Richie couldn’t see her. “I already saw it, two weeks ago, remember? When I was stitching up your groin.”

Richie audibly shuddered, remembering ⎯ remembering the pain.  Not from Bev stitching him up, she was a fucking pro and by then, he’d already numbed all his senses with an entire bottle of whisky. No, the pain from having someone drive a knife into his groin. “Fucking demons, man.” He muttered, inspecting the scarring tissue. He was still doing that when he felt cold water hit his back. "Fuck!" He yelped and backed away from the shower head.

"What?" 

"Uh." Richie faltered. He didn't want to admit to Bev that the water had turned cold. "Nothing."

But of course Beverly already knew. "You used up all the hot water, didn't you?" 

Richie didn't need to see her to know she was pinching her nose, probably counting to ten so she wouldn’t suffocate him with the shower curtain. "Every fucking time." He heard her mutter. 

"Sorry, Bev."

She sighed. "Just get your ass out of the shower and eat your breakfast." Richie heard the door open again. "I found us a case." 

The door closed and Richie hurried to rinse his body with as little cold water as possible, before exiting the shower and putting some clothes on. 

Bev was sitting on the coffee table, eating a donut and reading something on her tablet when Richie joined her. 

He quietly sipped on his coffee ⎯  more milk and sugar than actual coffee, just the way he liked it ⎯ afraid to reach over for a donut and have Beverly snap one of his fingers. She must have felt his hesitancy because without looking up, she slid the box of donuts over to him. That was as good a peace offering as any and he accepted it gladly. 

"You found us a case, you said?" Richie asked with his mouth full, spewing white dusty sugar with every word. Bev nodded. "Where?"

"Bridgton, Maine. Only a few miles from here." She finally looked up at Richie and turned the tablet towards him. There was a picture of a young woman smiling at the camera, the title of the article read  _ Local writer found dead in her apartment _ . He skimmed over the text and didn't find anything that struck him as odd enough to classify as their type of thing. 

"Okay. What's so weird about that? Exsanguination. The girl bled to death, it says so there. That's hardly anything supernatural."

"Right, I thought so too, but look here." She pointed to the last two lines of the article that Richie hadn't paid attention to. 

"No blood on the scene." He read. "Well, she could've been moved." 

"There were no tracks, not even after they used the UV light. And I know what you're going to say, maybe whoever did this, cleaned it up real good but there's no way she was moved." Bev turned the tablet towards her again, tapped on the screen and started reading. "Her boyfriend was there when it happened. He said she entered the bathroom at around eight, then he heard a weird noise, like something heavy hitting the floor, so he went to check on her and when she didn't answer, kicked the door down ⎯ only to find her completely drained of blood at 8:15, which was when he called 911. There's no window of time. There's no way someone could bleed her dry and clean up the blood in less than fifteen minutes."

Richie hummed, lips pursed. “Okay, that's fucking weird."

"And it gets weirder." Bev said, pulling up a different file before handing the tablet over to Richie. "Look at the autopsy report."

"Autopsy report? How did you get your hands on that?" 

Bev shrugged, mouth curling up into a smirk. "I hacked into the police database."

"That’s my girl." Richie said with a grin. He looked down at the autopsy report on the screen, skipping over what seemed normal. The cause of death read exsanguination, like the article, but below that line there was a comment from the doctor who performed the autopsy that Richie read out loud. "The body presents clear signs of exsanguination i.e lethal blood loss, but after a thorough examination we were unable to find the wound through which the victim bled out." Richie's face pulled into a frown. "What the fuck?" He glanced at Bev, she was giving him a look that said  _ I told you so _ . 

"No wound was found." She said, grabbing the tablet again. "And I'm no doctor, but if you lose all of your blood in less than fifteen minutes you gotta have a fucking massive wound, don't you think?"

Richie nodded in agreement. "So, what are you thinking? Vampires?"

Bev hesitated, eyeing Richie with concern ⎯ the way she did whenever there was a mention of vampires. Richie had told her a million times that she didn't need to watch herself, vampires were just like any other monster that they had to kill. And Richie had killed plenty, both with and without her. But for some reason, she would still worry, thinking that Richie would freeze or break down every time he came across the same type of monster that killed his mother and ended his father’s life.

Before Richie could wave her off this time though, she cleared her throat and answered his question. "Maybe. It would explain why they didn't find any blood on the scene."

"Were there any bite marks?"

"It doesn't say in the report." She said. "But they could've missed them."

Richie pursed his lips. "This isn't their usual M.O. though." He said. "They like to lure their prey and they rarely drink all their blood at once."

"It could be a youngling. They usually can't control their feeding impulses."

Richie hummed, going over the situation in his head. "I'm not entirely convinced it's a vampire." Bev opened her mouth to argue. " _But_ I don't have a better idea. And it is fucking weird, _our_ kind of weird. We should check it out."

Bev grinned, grabbing her tablet and standing up. "I'll start packing then." She emptied her coffee cup with one last gulp and started gathering her stuff.

Richie watched her as he finished his own breakfast. They had taken a two week break after the last hunt, which was a rough one, with Richie taking a knife to the groin and Beverly dislocating her shoulder. They had needed time to get their strength back, but they were good now. And the truth was that they preferred taking on cases back to back or else they grew restless with nothing to do. 

Richie finished his own coffee in one gulp and hurried to pack his things, excited to get back on the road again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie leaned on the counter while his eyes roamed over the diner, watching the people there with him. Almost immediately, his eyes fell on the man who was in line behind him. 
> 
> He felt his jaw drop slightly. The guy was cute. The cutest guy he had ever seen, Richie instantly decided. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt with a jacket thrown over it. Casual clothes that still allowed Richie to see that he was a guy that worked out. He looked like he could easily manhandle Richie despite his short frame and Richie's years of hunting and training.
> 
> Richie liked that idea very much.
> 
> It was the cute guy's turn to order and he smiled at the girl behind the counter, causing his cute little dimples to show and his eyes to crinkle adorably. He called the girl by her name and she smiled back, recognizing him. So he was probably a local.Richie was still staring at the cute guy when he finished ordering and moved to stand next to him. He thought he was being subtle right until the man tilted his head to stare at him.
> 
> "It's rude to stare you know."
> 
> Richie felt the tips of his ears burn at being caught but he still flashed a shit eating grin at the guy. "Can't blame a guy for admiring the view cutey."

Not even fifteen minutes later, they were already in the car.

Beverly pulled out from the Brookside Motel parking lot and Richie settled in for the ride. Normally, he would try and read about the case but other than what Bev already showed him, there wasn’t much to look at. At some point he drifted off to sleep, long limbs awkwardly folded in the tight space. 

He thought about how much he used to hate long car rides, back when it was just him. Alone, on the road, not being able to sleep or rest and with no company other than his old radio. 

Now, he had Bev. They would take turns driving from town to town and when they got bored, they would play silly road trip games to pass the time or crank up the music and sing along to whatever song was on⎯ terribly _and_ loudly. It reminded Richie of all the road trips he went on with his parents what seemed like forever ago, they liked to come up with the most absurd games to keep little Richie entertained.

Sooner than he expected, Richie felt the car start to slow down. He blinked his eyes open just in time to see Bev pull into the parking lot of yet another roadside motel. 

"Well that was fast." He muttered, stretching his muscles as much as he could in his seat.

"We weren't that far away to begin with." Bev said, turning off the engine and opening her door. "Come on."

"I thought we were going straight to the police station." 

Bev snorted, giving Richie a once over. "Like anyone would believe you're an FBI agent looking like that."

Richie looked down at himself and frowned⎯ he was wearing old jeans, a faded band t-shirt with a flannel thrown on top and dirty boots. He also imagined his hair looked like a bird's nest. Maybe Bev had a point. 

They checked in and made their way to room 27 where they changed into their FBI clothes. Richie hated the suit. It was stuffy and itchy and he thought it made him look stupid. Bev often told him that it did. He wished he could say it right back, but she had always rocked the FBI look. Whether she wore a pantsuit or a skirt, she never failed to look both elegant and threatening, Richie hated her a little because of it.

The drive to the police station was short. The town of Bridgton wasn't big, but it was nice⎯ lovely houses, a park where kids and dogs were playing around, a cutesy diner they would probably visit later, little shops that offered everything ranging from clothes to herbal tea. 

They walked into the station and made their way to the front desk where a young officer was lazily eyeing a magazine.

The moment they pulled out their FBI badges, the kid straightened up and tossed the magazine away, his eyes widening in surprise. He fixed his uniform and Richie got a quick look at his name tag⎯ officer Adrian Mellon. 

"We didn't know the FBI was coming here." He said, blinking up at them.

"Surprise buddy." Richie snickered, carelessly propping his elbow on the desk, papers crumpling under it.

"We're here for the Lorelai Foster case." Bev cut in. "We would like to talk to the person in charge."

"Oh that would be Captain Uris." Officer Mellon said, standing up and pointing at a closed door behind him. "I'll go get him for you." He said and disappeared. 

"Captain Uris." Richie repeated under his breath, his face pulling into a frown. 

Bev narrowed his eyes at him. "What?" 

"The name. It sounds familiar. But I can't remember where I heard it⎯" He cut himself off when officer Mellon returned, followed by the Captain, a man with neatly combed brown hair, a sharp uniform and a handsome face⎯ one that turned into a grimace the moment his eyes landed on Richie. "Stan the man!" He said, breaking into a grin the moment he recognized him. The reason why the name sounded familiar was clear to him now. 

Bev scrunched up her face, her eyes darting between Richie and Captain Uris. 

"Not you again." The Captain said, heaving out a loud sigh that only made Richie grin wider. "I should've known when Adrian told me the FBI was here that it was _you_."

"Oh Staniel. Don't try to hide it, I know you're happy to see me." 

"It's Stan. Or Captain Uris."

Richie ooohed. "Captain. How righteous."

"Shut up, Richie."

"You remember my name." He beamed delighted, causing Stan to roll his eyes. Bev cleared her throat, feeling slightly left out. "This is my partner, Beverly."

She nodded at Stanley, who politely nodded back but didn't look pleased to be meeting her under these circumstances.

“Why are you here?”

“To see your beautiful face of course, Stanny.” 

An officer walking by in that exact moment frowned at the exchange, which only made Stan glare harder.

"We better talk in my office." He said through gritted teeth and whirled around, heading for the door behind him.

Richie started to follow but was stopped by Bev gripping his arm. 

"Care to explain why you know that man and why he knows your name⎯ your _real_ name. Did you two hook up or something?"

Richie threw his head back with a laugh, earning them a few more curious looks. 

"Stan wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole." He said with a snort. "But I’m flattered you would think I could tap that." 

Bev gave him a pointed look and he sighed.

"I met him a few years ago, when I was working a case in a shitty little town called Derry. He wasn’t Captain Uris back then, just your everyday friendly cop⎯ minus the friendly part. They were dealing with a shapeshifter with a knack for dressing up as a clown to lure kids. Fucking creepy Bev, you should've seen it." Richie suppressed a shudder, reaching up to adjust his glasses. He had always hated clowns and that summer he had genuinely considered calling another hunter to take on the case when he found out what he was dealing with but couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

"Anyway, Stan never bought my FBI act and he wouldn't leave me alone so he was with me when I finally found it. It liked to hide in the sewers while it changed. The point is, the fucker heard us coming⎯ probably all the bickering and the name calling." Bev snorted, shaking her head at him. "He jumped me and I dropped my gun. Stan shot it with his but it didn't do shit of course. So I yelled at him to use my gun because⎯ you know, silver bullets and finally he did, killing it.” Richie scoffed. “Bev you should've seen his face when the thing started disintegrating into that disgusting yucky stuff. Then he made me tell him the truth. Let’s just say he didn't take it as well as you did, but he was more understanding than most people." 

Bev nodded. In their years hunting together they'd been forced to tell people about monsters⎯ to get them to help or to save their lives but not everyone took it in stride. "So why does he hate you? You helped him stop the thing that was killing kids after all." 

"My charming personality of course." Bev snickered at him. "Well that and the fact that Stan had to lie to his superiors and tell them the killer escaped since he couldn't exactly show them the gooey pile of remains, so⎯ He blames that on me."

"Yeah, I doubt they were happy with him." 

The two of them finally followed Stan to his office. He ushered them in, closed the door and locked it. 

“Why are you really here, Richie?”

Bev was probably able to tell Richie was about to make another joke and rushed to answer the question herself. "The Lorelai Foster case."

Stan pursed his lips in discontent. "Yeah, I figured as much. Not much goes on in this town that would warrant an FBI visit, even the fake FBI." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But if you're here Richie then it means you think that Lorelai's murderer isn't human."

"You’re one smart cookie Captain Uris." 

"So you think it could be a shapeshifter like last time?" 

Richie shook his head. "No, not a shapeshifter."

Stan ran a hand down his face. "And do you know what it is?"

"Not yet." Bev answered this time, shaking her head. 

"Okay." Stan said. He let out one last long suffering sigh before schooling his face to a serious expression. "Tell me what you need."

Richie couldn't help but gasp. "Wait, just like that? You believe us?" He asked, surprised. "Six years ago you didn't even let me go into the crime scene. I had to sneak in after hours." 

"Wait, you snuck in⎯" Stan cut himself off with a sigh. "Never mind. I guess this time I already know there's more out there. And if I'm being honest this case struck me as odd⎯ if not damn near impossible, from the very beginning. Victim dies from blood loss but there's no blood? No wound? It's not like she just spontaneously dried up inside. And she was locked inside her bathroom, no signs of forced entry through the only window. So I guess that if there's no way for me to explain what happened, maybe you can."

Richie grinned at him. "Stan the man, I see they didn't make you captain just because you look damn fine in that uniform."

Stan narrowed his eyes threateningly even if the corner of his mouth curled upwards the slightest bit. "Don't test me, Richie. I still blame you for my three month suspension six years ago." 

Bev cut in before Richie could annoy Stan further, worried that they would end up being kicked out of his office. "We'll need to visit the crime scene." She said answering Stan's question from before. "And also speak to Lorelai's boyfriend."

"We'll also need to see the body." Richie added and Bev nodded in agreement. 

"You won't find a wound. The examiner checked the body rather thoroughly." 

"Well they weren't looking for the same thing we are."

Stan's eyebrows knitted. "Which is?"

Richie and Bev hesitated, but they figured it was probably easier to get Stan's help if they were honest with him. 

"Bite marks." Richie said, causing Stan's eyes to widen. 

" _Bite marks?_ As in vampires?" He asked, eyes darting between the two of them. He looked surprised⎯ and a little curious. "They exist?"

"Yeah." 

"And you think that's what killed Lorelai Foster?"

Richie still had his reservations about it so he simply shrugged and said, "It's a possibility."

"But you're not sure yet." Stan said, Richie and Bev nodded. "Okay. Well, I can give you access to the morgue and I can have someone call the boyfriend to let him know you want to talk to him. He can show you the room where it happened. Anything else?"

"The crime scene reports. We need to know everything they found at the scene and on her, even the smallest detail can matter to us." 

"I'll have Adrian send them to you."

"Thank you." Bev said. "If we need anything else we'll let you know."

"Alright." Stan said with a nod. He turned his attention to his computer. He printed a paper, signed it and gave it to Richie. "That should be enough to get you into the morgue." He glanced at the clock. "If you go now you'll be able to catch Dr. Blum before she leaves. You can give me your number and I'll let you know when you can go to Miss Foster's house."

"Oh Captain if you wanted my number all you had to do was ask." Richie said with a smirk that was wiped from his face when Beverly smacked his arm. "Ow!"

Stan gave him an unamused look and huffing under his breath, Richie wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to Stan. 

"I'll keep in touch." He said in a way that sounded a lot like he was dismissing them. 

Bev thanked him and left the office but before Richie could follow her, Stan was calling his name. "This is a nice town Richie." He said when he turned around. "It's not like Derry, bad things don't just happen here. The worst thing these people had to worry about before was a band of raccoons sneaking into their backyards. We need to catch this⎯ this _thing_ okay?" 

Richie nodded in agreement. "Aye aye cap'n." He said with a wink before leaving the office and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Dr. Blum was on her way out of the morgue when Richie and Bev pulled up into the parking lot. 

"Dr. Blum!" Bev called, jumping from the car and catching up to her while Richie parked it. They didn't want to miss her. "Excuse me, ma'am. We're from the FBI and we're looking into the Lorelai Foster case. Captain Uris gave my partner and I permission to see the body." 

Dr. Blum was a young woman dressed in blue scrubs, with short blond hair and a kind face. "FBI?" She asked, tilting her head curiously. "Why is the FBI interested in our little town?" 

Bev gave her a polite smile, shrugging. "We only go where they send us, ma'am."

Dr. Blum scrunched up her nose, a gesture that made her look younger than she probably was. "Please don't call me ma'am, honey." She said with a soft chuckle. "You're making me feel old. Call me Patty."

"Patty! Lovely name." Richie cut in, walking up to them with a charming grin. Dr. Blum⎯ Patty eyed him up and down and smiled amusedly at him. "We hate to bother you Patty but we really need to take a look at that body now."

"Woah there, agent. At least buy me dinner first." Patty said with a playful wink. 

Richie let out a boisterous laugh. "I like you Patty but I'm afraid the body we want to see is not in such good shape as yours."

"You’re a real charmer Agent⎯"

"Tozier. But you can call me Richie." 

"Richie. Do you mind if I see that?" She reached for the paper in Richie's hand. "Can I ask what you two are hoping to find?" She asked, her eyes skimming over the paper. 

Bev glanced at Richie⎯ they couldn’t exactly tell her that they were looking for something that would confirm this was a supernatural murder after all. "We just want to make sure that they didn't miss anything?"

Patty narrowed her eyes at Beverly. "You mean you want to make sure that _I_ didn’t miss anything. Do you think I don't know how to do my job?" Richie and Bev shared a look but before they could begin to explain themselves Patty just waved them off with a laugh. "I'm just messing with you, agents. I think I can give you half an hour with it. Does that work?"

They nodded. They were used to working with a whole lot less. Usually people weren't as helpful as Stan or Patty and they've had to break into crime scenes and a morgue or two before. 

They followed Patty into the building and down a flight of stairs to the cold chamber. Richie felt a shiver run down his spine, if there was one thing that he could never get used to it was the coldness of death that could be felt in the air of this kind of place.

Bev seemed unphased by it and so did Patty, she made her way to cold locker number 7 and pulled the handle. Lorelai's body was kept in a big black bag. Patty grabbed the case file on the side of the tray and gave it to Beverly. 

"Everything that we found is in there." She told them. "I’m sure you already know it, but this is a rather odd case. The cause of death is clearly exsanguination but there is no wound. In fact, there is no blood⎯ not in the crime scene and _definitely_ not in her. It’s like the blood just disappeared.”

"No blood? Like⎯ _at all_?" Bev asked, eyes skimming over the file.

Patty shook her head. “All four point nine liters⎯ gone! _Poof_!"

“Isn't that impossible?”

“Rare, but not impossible.” Patty said with a shrug. “If someone used a formalin pump like the ones they use for embalming, for example. They extract all of the blood while pushing in the embalming fluid.” Bev opened her mouth to ask something but Patty didn't give her a chance. “ _But_ I didn't find any trace of formalin in Miss Foster nor an incision for the injection of the fluid. Like I said, odd.” Patty's cell phone started ringing then. “You’ll have to excuse me agents, but I have to take this. I'll leave you _three_ ,” She said, looking at them and then at the body bag in front of them. _“_ Alone."

When Patty locked herself in her tiny office Bev turned to him. "Stop it with the disgusted grimace, Richie. Get over here."

Richie's face twisted even more but he moved closer to her and Lorelai's still covered body. "You know I fucking hate this part." 

"It's not like I enjoy it." Bev said handing him a pair of latex gloves, hers already on. She unzipped the bag in one swift movement, uncovering the body. 

If they could even call it that.

All that was left of Lorelai Foster were her bones and the wrinkled, dried up skin that covered them.

"Oh fuck, it's like⎯"

"Like Patty said." Bev finished for him. 

"I was going to say⎯ like an old lady who was left to dry up in the sun."

Bev shook his head at him disapprovingly. "Jesus Christ Richie." She shrugged. "You're right though. She's completely dry."

“I never heard of a vampire drinking that much blood at once or in such a short time.” 

“Maybe it was extremely hungry. Famished even." Bev said, gesturing at the body with her head. “Look for any bite marks.”

Richie let out a whine. “Why does it always have to be me?”

“I’m holding the case file.” Bev shrugged, trying to hide her smirk when Richie scrunched up his nose and started to examine the body. She took pictures of the report⎯ there were pages that she hadn't seen before, that were missing from the one she got by hacking into the police database and that might come in handy later on. 

After a thorough examination Richie sighed and dropped his hands to his sides, careful not to touch his pants with his dirty gloves. "No bite marks. At all. I even checked her scalp." 

Bev looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes Bev." He reached up to adjust his glasses before he realized what he was doing and dropped his hand again. "But feel free to look for yourself." 

Bev scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Nope, I believe you." She told him, closing the file. “If there are no bite marks we can rule out vampires then.”

“I don’t know Bev. If it's not a vampire then how do you explain the blood just⎯ disappearing?”

The door opened and Patty walked in. “I’m sorry agents, but my nephew is waiting for me and I need to go.”

“That’s alright." Bev said with a polite smile. "We already took enough of your time.”

“Did you find the answers to your questions?” 

“I think we found questions for our questions." Richie said with a snort, discarding the gloves with one last grimace. "But we'll keep looking into it."

“Well let me know what you find." Patty said, leading them outside and closing the place behind them. "I’m as intrigued as you are.” 

They thanked Patty for her help before going to their car. 

“Did Stan say anything about when we can visit the crime scene?” 

Richie checked his phone to see that Stan had, in fact, said something. He texted Richie to tell him that Lorelai's boyfriend had agreed to see them tomorrow. 

“There isn't much we can do until then.” 

Beverly disagreed⎯ she wanted to go over all the reports again as well as try to find what other monster could have killed Lorelai now that their vampire theory had been debunked. 

Richie drove them to the motel dreading his least favorite part of the job⎯ doing research. He would rather go against a rabid werewolf than spend hours reading about celtic monsters and pagan gods.

Back when it was just him and his father, Richie would end up doing most of the research. Went thought it was safest if Richie stayed behind while he went out to fight the monsters. He would help him crack the case but when it came to actually ganking the monster, that was all his father. 

Then his father died and Richie ended up on his own and it was up to him to do everything⎯ find the case, do the research and put down the monster. And he was good at it. _Very_ good, but he struggled with those long hours of reading through the lore and trying to discern what was true and what was just myth. When he found Beverly, he was pleased to learn that she didn't mind the research. In fact she loved it. Right from the start she'd wanted to know everything that she could about every kind of monster. 

She would find them a case, pile up all the information they needed⎯ hack into a database or two if necessary⎯ and if she had to stay up all night to find what she needed or figure out the mystery, she would do it. And Richie would help her of course, but more often than not he would lose his focus shortly after getting started. 

This case wasn't an exception. Only an hour after they had arrived back at the motel and sat down to work, Richie started getting restless, his leg bouncing incessantly. Beverly had already kicked him under the table at least three times before she lost her patience. 

"Why don't you go get us some food? From that diner downtown."

"You're just trying to get rid of me." Richie said before breaking into a grin. "And I'll take it."

He threw a worn leather jacket over his yellow button-up that he had changed into after ditching the FBI look, grabbed his wallet and left the room, kissing Bev's head on his way out. 

He decided to walk to the diner, knowing that he would miss more research time that way.

While he walked he studied the shops they'd driven past earlier that day more closely. There was one in particular that caught his attention, a new age store called _Lunae_ _Lucem._

"Moonlight." Richie muttered, recognizing the words. He had learned a bit of latin over the years, like any hunter who was forced to perform an exorcism here and a summoning spell there. 

Through the showcase, Richie was able to see books, pendants, sigils, tarot cards and jars filled with herbs. Most of those things were probably fake. Most of these places ended up being a total bust. But it never hurt to know where to find these stuff in the off chance that they were real. You never knew when you would need to buy Eye of Newt or Yarrow Root during a hunt and Richie had the feeling he would be visiting this store before this hunt was over. 

Not right now though, right now he needed to get food and go back to help Bev. _Hurray_.

The town diner was like every other diner Richie had visited over the years⎯ bright, colorful and with a strong smell of grease and candy in the air.

"Hey sweetheart." Richie said to the cashier, a young girl with a bored expression. "Can I have two of your special burgers, two large fries and two cheesecake slices, please."

The girl nodded, writing the order down. Richie didn't miss the way her eyes looked him up and down, probably wondering if all that food would go into his lanky body. 

"To go?" The cashier asked and Richie nodded. "Coming right up."

Richie leaned on the counter while his eyes roamed over the diner, watching the people there with him. Almost immediately, his eyes fell on the man who was in line behind him.

He felt his jaw drop slightly.

The guy was cute. The cutest guy he had ever seen, Richie instantly decided. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt with a jacket thrown over it. Casual clothes that still allowed Richie to see that he was a guy that worked out. He looked like he could easily manhandle Richie despite his short frame and Richie's years of hunting and training. 

Richie liked that idea very much. 

It was the cute guy's turn to order and he smiled at the girl behind the counter, causing his cute little dimples to show and his eyes to crinkle adorably. He called the girl by her name and she smiled back, recognizing him. So he was probably a local.

Richie was still staring at the cute guy when he finished ordering and moved to stand next to him. He thought he was being subtle right until the man tilted his head to stare at him.

"It's rude to stare you know." 

Richie felt the tips of his ears burn at being caught but he still flashed a shit eating grin at the guy. "Can't blame a guy for admiring the view cutey." 

The guy wrinkled his nose at that. "Please don't call me that."

"Then what should I call you?" Richie asked leaning forward on the counter to get closer to him.

The guy looked Richie up and down, probably trying to determine if he should give this stranger his name⎯ and hopefully checking him out and enjoying what he saw. Richie put on his most innocent expression, the one he used when people caught him lurking around their house or going through their stuff. He liked to think it was believable even if most of the time it led to him having to flee before someone could call the police on him. This time though, it seemed to work. 

"I'm Eddie."

Richie smiled with delight. "So tell me _Eddie_ , do you come here often?"

The cute guy⎯Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that really what you choose to go with?" Richie shrugged, Eddie gave him an amused smile. "I _do_ come here often⎯ I have my whole life, actually. Not you though, you're not from around here." It was a statement not a question, but Richie nodded anyway. "What brings you to Bridgton?"

"I'm here for work."

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him curiously. "What do you do?"

"I'm an FBI agent."

Eddie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

"What? You've never seen an FBI agent before, Eds?"

"It's Eddie and yes I have." He said, his eyes roamed over Richie again. "And you don't look like them. You're too⎯"

"Handsome? Sexy?"

"I was gonna say young." Richie huffed, ducking his head. A smirk curled along Eddie's lips. "And passably good looking, I guess."

Richie perked up. "Passably good looking, huh?" He asked with a grin. "Okay. I can work with that."

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek trying to fight off a smile. "Not to mention you're wearing _that_." He pointed at Richie's disarrayed clothing. "Instead of a suit."

"The suit is back in my room. They're very itchy, you know."

"And your badge?" Eddie pressed on, raising an eyebrow.

Richie shrugged. "With my suit."

"That's convenient." 

Eddie stared him down and Richie couldn't help but fidget a bit. He was used to lying⎯ hell, he lied for a living. And he was damn good at it. And yeah, several people had questioned his identity before, but there was something about Eddie that made him nervous, like he could see right through Richie's lies. Fortunately, whether he believed him or not, he decided to play along. 

"So tell me⎯ What brings a hot shot FBI agent to our little town?"

"We're looking into the murder of Lorelai Foster."

"The woman who bled to death?"

"You know something about that?" 

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, everyone in town knows what happened. The most crime this town has seen in the past five years is a gang of hungry raccoons."

Richie huffed out a laugh and Eddie couldn't help but chuckle as well. "I think I heard something about that."

"So do you know who did it?" 

"You know I can't tell you that cutey." Richie said with a smirk. "This is an ongoing investigation after all⎯"

"Eddie." 

" _But⎯_ " Richie leaned forward, closer to Eddie. He studied his face up close. Pretty big brown eyes with specks of gold in them. Cute dimples that were visible even when he wasn't smiling. He was so handsome Richie forgot for a second what he was going to say. "But I'm willing to make an exception in exchange for something⎯ let's say your number or maybe coffee?"

Eddie inched closer to him, a glint in his eyes. "I don't think your superior would like that very much."

"I won't tell if you don't." 

Eddie let out a giggle that just about stopped Richie's heart. The cashier girl chose that moment to call Eddie's name coming up to the counter carrying a paper bag and handing it to him. 

"Thank you Kay." Then he gave Richie one last long look and smirked. "Maybe some other time. Enjoy your meal, agent." 

"It's Richie." He said watching Eddie walk away but he was already out of earshot, opening the door. 

"John. John." 

It wasn't until Eddie was out of view that Richie realized the girl was calling him⎯ or the name that was in the fake credit card he used. He accepted his own paper bag with a thank you and left the diner. 

He couldn't help it that Eddie was the only thing on his mind during the entire walk back to the motel.

Richie tried not to make a habit of hooking up with people while he was working a case. Yes, he would tease and flirt but he knew better than to let himself get distracted when he was supposed to be working. That was how people died. How people got hurt. 

But there was just _something_ about Eddie. 

Maybe after the monster was dead and the hunt was over, he could find Eddie again. It was a small town, sure it wouldn't be so hard. For now though, he needed to be clear of all distraction. 

And get Beverly her food. 

He already had five texts from her wondering where the fuck he was. By the time he made it back to the motel it was dark outside. Bev was still glued to her tablet and in the same position she was when Richie left. 

"Honey, I'm home!" 

Bev narrowed her eyes at him. "What the fuck took you so long?"

Richie didn't feel like telling her about Eddie. Bev and him agreed on the _not getting involved with anyone no matter how hot during a hunt_ rule and in the times that Richie forgot about it, she would happily remind him. 

"I swear the service in this town, dude. Terrible." He huffed, shaking his head. 

Bev rolled her eyes at him, clearly not believing him but then her eyes landed on the food. "Get that over here. I'm starving."

Richie complied, picking up a couple of beers from the cooler on the way to the table. "So," He said right after shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. "Did you figure out what we're dealing with?"

"First of all, you're disgusting." Bev said, wrinkling her nose. "And no, I didn't. I found a shitload of blood-drinking monsters⎯ shtrigas, vetalas, lamias. But according to the lore they all leave bite marks behind and most of them _also_ feed on human flesh."

"Lorelai's flesh was all there." 

Beverly nodded. "And no bite marks, so we're back to square one." She said, slapping Richie's hand away from her fries. "Actually we're on square _zero_ now since we have absolutely no idea what is going on here."

Richie hummed, leaning back in his chair until only two legs were supporting him. "Hopefully seeing the crime scene will shine some light in this fucking mess." 

"Yeah. Maybe the boyfriend will be able to tell us something useful."

"Speaking of boyfriends⎯" Richie said with a smirk. "We should call Ben, ask him to look up similar cases around the area. It could help."

Bev spluttered, splotches of red appearing on her cheeks. "Why would you say that⎯ He's not my boyfriend." She threw a french fry at Richie. It ended up stuck in his hair. "And I already talked to him. He said he'd let us know if he found anything."

"I should've known you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to talk to him."

"Shut up, Richie." 

"I bet he _loved_ to hear from you." Richie teased. "Did he get all flustered when he heard your voice? I bet he was blushing. He's always blushing around you." Richie's grin widened when he saw her own blush deepen. "Just like you're right now!" He guffawed.

Bev's eyes rolled to the back of her head which only made him laugh harder. "You're insufferable, Richard."

"And you're adorable Bev, with your huge ass crush on our book boy." 

"Well, if we're talking about crushes then why don't you tell me the real reason it took you so long to get food."

Richie's laughter was cut off abruptly. "What? I told you. Bad service, that's all."

She gave him a pointed look. "Oh please. I saw your moony-eyed face when you came in."

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Yes you do. So who was she? The cashier? A girl in line behind you?" Richie's face must have twisted some kind of way because Bev raised an eyebrow in interest. "Maybe it wasn't a girl at all."

Richie could feel his face start to heat up. "Drop it Bev."

"Not so funny when it's you, huh?" Bev said with a grin but she thankfully dropped it, in favor of taking a bite from her cheesecake.

Richie did the same, trying to get his cheeks back to their usual color. 

"At what time are we supposed to go to Lorelai's house tomorrow?"

"The boyfriend is expecting us at noon."

"Well there isn't much to do until then." She said, picking up her food and moving to one of the beds. "Want to watch some shitty movie?"

"You know I always do." Richie grinned, leaving his chair and flopping down next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is here and three more losers have joined the fun! Let me know what you think about them and their interactions and let theory time begin. I want to hear what you all think. 
> 
> You can leave a comment or come find me on tumblr  
> [jem-castairs-is-perfection](http://jem-carstairs-is-perfection.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a final attempt to find something, Richie kneeled on the floor to check under the bathroom cabinet. 
> 
> “Fuck yeah.” He muttered when his eyes spotted something underneath. He knew it was probably nothing, but it was worth at least checking it out. 
> 
> Richie had just dropped down onto the floor to try to reach it when his phone started ringing. 
> 
> He cursed under his breath, struggling to reach his phone with half his body trapped under the cabinet. With enough wiggling around he managed to do it, and he frowned when he saw it was Stan calling. Putting it on speaker, he answered the call, "Stan the man, what's up?"
> 
> "Richie? Are you okay? You sound slightly out of breath." 
> 
> "I'm peachy." He said stretching out his hand, but even with his long limbs he still couldn't reach the object. "Excited to hear your voice, that's all. To what do I owe the pleasure, cap?"
> 
> With a put upon sigh Stan said, "There's another victim, Richie."

Lorelai's home was a small house in the suburbs. It looked exactly like every other house on the street, though the front lawn looked slightly unkempt⎯ the grass needed to be mowed and it was filled with weeds. Additionally, no one had removed the yellow crime scene tape that had been used to keep the nosy neighbors from where it was stuck in the bushes. 

Richie wasn't sure if the boyfriend had been living in her house since she died but if he was, it seemed that caring for Lorelai's front lawn wasn't his priority. 

They walked up to the front door. After one knock it was opened by a man Richie recognized as James Carter from the photos in Lorelai's file. The effect his girlfriend's death had on him was obvious⎯ there were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn’t shaved in days and he was looking at them with an empty stare. He barely even glanced at their FBI badges before letting them in, guiding them towards the living room.

"Can I offer you anything?" James asked after taking a seat, like he had only just remembered that he was supposed to. Richie and Bev sat down opposite to him. "Water? Coffee? I think there's some tea left from Lorelai⎯" He stopped abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I think there's some tea left." He finished.

Beverly shook her head. "No, we're okay. Thank you." 

He gave her a short nod. "Um. The police said you had questions." 

"Yes, we would like you to go over the events of that night one more time." 

"I already told the police everything."

"We know, but it would be really helpful if you told _us_." Bev gently pressed on. James didn't look happy to go through that again but he gave them a reluctant nod.

"And don't leave anything out." Richie jumped in. "Even the smallest detail can be important."

James sighed tiredly. He told them the exact same story they read on the police report, running a hand down his face once he had finished. 

On the night of her death, Lorelai had stepped into the bathroom upstairs at exactly 8:00 pm to take a shower before dinner. James said he didn't hear the water running but approximately ten minutes later he recalled hearing a soft cry, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. He rushed upstairs while calling her name, and when he tried to open the door it was locked. When he got no answer, he kicked down the door and found Lorelai on the floor with her back propped against the wall. 

"Her cheeks were sunken in⎯ like when people lose way too much weight, you know? Her eyes and her mouth were wide open in this horrified expression⎯" James broke off with a shaky breath. "I only know I called 911 because the police and paramedics showed up, but I don't remember doing it."

"Sometimes when people are in shock they act on instinct and they do things without realizing."

James nodded absently. "Yeah, that's what they told me."

Bev and Richie exchanged a glance, neither of them liked what came next⎯ asking the questions that would earn them weird looks, but they had to do it if they wanted this interview to go somewhere. "Did you notice anything strange in the bathroom when you went in?" 

James narrowed his eyes at Bev. _There it is_ , Richie thought, _the “what the hell are you talking about?”_ _look._ "Weird other than my girlfriend's dead body?"

Bev kept her expression neutral, ignoring the sharp tone. "Maybe cold spots? The smell of sulfur? Black goo?"

His face pulled into a frown and he shook his head. "No⎯ Nothing like that." 

Richie's mouth curled downwards. In one last attempt to gather some helpful information, he said, "Mr. Carter, do you mind if I take a look at the bathroom where you found Lorelai?"

"The police already cleared it." He said. Then he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, "But yeah, okay. It’s upstairs, the last door to the right."

Richie nodded, heading for the stairs while Bev stayed with James. She would ask him other questions while Richie looked for something that might help them⎯ Did your girlfriend have any enemies? Maybe an ex-boyfriend or someone from work? Did she meet anyone new lately? Did she mention something weird happening in the days leading up to her death? 

Hopefully one of them would find something. 

He made his way upstairs on high alert, even if there was no chance that whatever killed Lorelai was still around. The bathroom was easy to find⎯ no one had fixed the door after James kicked it in and it hung off its hinges, slightly ajar. 

He pulled out his gun and held it up in front of him while pushing the door open with his shoulder but the bathroom was empty. He tucked the gun away, taking out his EMF meter and checking for paranormal activity, but there wasn’t any. 

Richie groaned. He didn’t really believe a ghost was behind Lorelai's death, but they were quickly running out of ideas. Still he couldn't help but think that if they wanted to find answers, this bathroom was the place to look for them. And so he went through every inch of the room, trying to find some clue. Sulfur, ectoplasm, anything weird. 

He searched the drawers, but nothing seemed out of place. He checked the only window in the room for any kind of trace but it was sealed shut. Fortunately, the trash can was empty so he didn't have to go through its contents. 

In a final attempt to find something, Richie kneeled on the floor to check under the bathroom cabinet. 

“Fuck yeah.” He muttered when his eyes spotted something underneath. He knew it was probably nothing, but it was worth at least checking it out. 

Richie had just dropped down onto the floor to try to reach it when his phone started ringing. 

He cursed under his breath, struggling to reach his phone with half his body trapped under the cabinet. With enough wiggling around he managed to do it, and he frowned when he saw it was Stan calling. Putting it on speaker, he answered the call, "Stan the man, what's up?"

"Richie? Are you okay? You sound slightly out of breath." 

"I'm peachy." He said stretching out his hand, but even with his long limbs he still couldn't reach the object. "Excited to hear your voice, that's all. To what do I owe the pleasure, cap?"

With a put upon sigh Stan said, "There's another victim, Richie."

Richie went still. He wasn't expecting that. "What? Who?"

"His name is Lucas Gelb, he writes for the town newspaper. We just arrived at his house. He died here."

"Damn it." Richie groaned. Bev and him had hoped they would catch whatever monster did this before it could claim another victim. He shimmied further under the cabinet. "Was he bled dry too?"

"No."

"No?" Richie asked, surprised. His face pulled into a frown just as his fingers grazed against the object. _So close_. "Then how did he die?"

"He⎯" Stan started but then he went silent.

"Stan? You with me, buddy?" Richie asked, wondering if Stan hung up on him. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm here." He said. "It's just⎯ this is weird Richie. _Really_ weird."

Richie snorted. "Weird is kinda my thing, Staniel. Just tell me. Aha!" His fingers finally clutched the small object.

"He was boiled, Richie. Lucas Gelb was boiled."

Forgetting where he was, Richie snapped his head up in surprise⎯ and smashed it against the cabinet. "Motherfucker!" 

"Richie?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He said through gritted teeth. His head throbbed and when he opened his eyes he saw stars. "Just give me a minute."

Stan stayed silent until the pain ebbed away and Richie could speak again. "Did you say he was boiled? Like⎯ in a large container filled with boiling oil or water?"

"More like in his dining table, right in front of his family with absolutely no hot water or oil near him."

Richie frowned. Stan was right, that _was_ weird. Even for them. He brought his hand to his face, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew when he hit his head. He noticed that his hand was still wrapped around something⎯ the reason he was under the cabinet in the first place.

He opened it and his eyes widened when he saw what it was. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"Nothing. I mean, it's not nothing. It's actually something. A _huge_ something, but you're not gonna like it. Neither is Bev. Hell, _I_ don't like it." 

"You're not making any sense." Stan said, annoyed.

"I know what we're dealing with." Richie told him. He dragged himself from under the cabinet, careful not to hit his head again, and even more careful not to drop the tiny cloth bag in his hand. He knew Stan would want to know more but before he could ask, he continued, "Not on the phone, Stan. Send me your location. Bev and I will be there as soon as we can."

Stan agreed before ending the call. Richie stared down at the little bag in his hand. He undid the tiny red ribbon holding it closed, his face pulling into a grimace even before he could see what was inside. He already knew what he would find.

Herbs, an unbroken spider egg, tiny bones that made Richie suppress a shudder and a lock of brown hair that he was willing to bet belonged to Lorelai Foster. 

"Fucking hell." Richie muttered. He hated that he was right. "I fucking hate witches." 

He tied the ribbon back― careful not to touch any of the contents. Then he made his way downstairs.

Bev and James were still sitting in the living room. James looked even more worn down than before and Bev looked like someone who hadn't gotten the answers that she was hoping for. She looked up when Richie appeared and raised an eyebrow when she noticed his rumpled suit. 

He jerked his head towards the door, mouthing, "Time to go."

Bev narrowed her eyes but nodded, closing the little notepad she brought. "Thank you for your time, James." 

"I wish I could be more helpful." He said, walking with them to the door. 

"You were. Don't worry." Richie gave him a smile, hoping that he wouldn't notice his disheveled state. If he did, he didn't say anything about it.

They assured him that they were doing everything they could to catch the killer. He offered a smile in return, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

The moment the door closed behind them, Bev let out a loud sigh. "Well that was a bust. Apparently, everyone loved Lorelai. No creepy ex-boyfriends, no crazy stalkers. No reason for her to get murdered. Please, tell me you found something." Her eyes darted to his clothes. "And why do you look like you had to crawl out from a ghoul nest?"

"Do you want the good news, the bad news or the worst news first?"

Bev gave him a worried look. "Just tell me."

Richie ran a hand through his hair. "Well, the good news is that I know what we're dealing with." Bev's eyes sparkled with hope, but Richie held up a hand to shush her. Then he grabbed the hex bag from his pocket and held it up for her to see. 

"The bad news is that it's fucking witches." Richie continued. Bev wrinkled her nose, she hated witches as much as Richie did. Every time they had faced one had ended with them either covered in disgusting bodily fluids or with one of them magically flung into a wall while the other one was tied down to be sacrificed in a magic ritual. Neither of them was looking forward to going through that again. 

"Oh, and the worse news? Stan called. We have another victim."

* * *

Lucas Gelb lived only ten minutes away from Lorelai. Unlike her house, his was filled with people and buzzing with activity. There were three patrol cars and an ambulance parked out front. Cops, paramedics and forensic examiners walked in and out of the house and neighbors and news reporters were barely held at bay by yellow tape and bored officers.

Richie and Bev walked up to one of them, FBI badges in hand. He nodded and they ducked under the tape and made their way towards the house.

The first thing they noticed was the noise. Too many people talking over each other, someone sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. 

The second thing they noticed was the smell. 

Richie and Bev immediately recognized the sweet, musky smell of cooked human flesh. They exchanged a glance, both of their faces scrunched up. They stepped into the dining room and spotted Stan among the crowd. 

He waved them over. "I'm glad you made it." 

"It's fucking chaos in here." Richie said, looking around. People came and went, collecting evidence and taking pictures. "How long ago did this happen?"

"An hour or so. I've been trying to clear the house but all my officers are busy, either handling the crowd out there, interviewing witnesses or taking pictures of the room and the body." Stan sighed, running a hand down his face. He looked tired and frustrated. "It's been impossible."

"The body is still here?" 

He nodded, pointing at a covered bundle near the dining table. "I told them to wait for you. I figured you'd want to take a look at it before they took it to the morgue." 

Richie looked at Bev, who simply nodded and turned on her heels. She didn't like being on body duty but they both knew that since Stan knew Richie more, he would be more comfortable talking to him. 

She pulled out a pair of gloves from her suit⎯ over the years, she had learned that it was best to always have some around. You never knew when you would need to get your hands on something gross while working a case. 

Trying to breath in as little as possible of that gut wrenching smell, she lifted the blanket⎯ and had to physically stop herself from heaving. 

Lucas Gelb didn't look like a person anymore, but more like a globby cooked figure. Every inch of skin was burnt⎯ nasty third degree burns with exposed flesh and peeled off skin. His face was twisted in horror, his mouth open in a silent scream. What was left of his lips was blistered and swollen and his eyes were cloudy and half-melted in their sockets. His clothes were untouched, but Bev could see that they had slowly begun to fuse with his skin in some places. 

She took out her phone and took a couple of pictures, then he searched Lucas' pockets for a hex bag. She didn't find any, which meant that it was probably somewhere in the room. 

With one sad final look at Lucas Gelb, she threw the blanket over the body and started looking for it. 

* * *

"So, we have a witness this time." Richie said after Bev walked away.

"Several, actually. The Gelb family had just sat down for lunch when Lucas started complaining about the heat, downing half the pincher of water in one gulp. Then he started sweating profusely, they said, and his skin started to redden. Then blisters started to appear. He started screaming and they all watched as his skin started to swollen, then burn until he boiled to death." Stan explained. "His sister called 911 while he was still alive, but when they arrived fifteen minutes later he was already dead."

"He died in a matter of minutes. Just like Lorelai." Richie said, crossing his arms. "Is there any relation between her and Lucas?"

"None that I know off. It's a small town so they could've passed each other in the supermarket. Maybe even attended high school together, but that's it." He said with a shrug. "The only thing linking them together right now is the fact that their deaths are both weird as hell."

Richie nodded in agreement. Still, he made a mental note to tell Bev that they needed to look further for any relation between the victims. It could help them find their witch.

Stan moved closer to him and lowered his voice, "You said you knew what we're dealing with." Richie nodded, lips pursed. "You don't look too happy about it." 

"Let's just say, I'd rather be dealing with vampires."

"What is it?" Stan asked, his face pinched.

"Witches." Bev replied, reappearing behind Richie. Stan gave her an incredulous look but she was looking at Richie, holding a hex bag to his face. "Found it inside the table centerpiece."

Stan narrowed his eyes at the object. "What is that?" 

"It's called a hex bag. Witches use it to cast hexes. We found one in Lorelai's house too."

Stan stared between the two of them. Richie thought he was about to see him lose it, but after a few deep breaths his calm demeanor was back. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." 

"I wish'a were, cap'n." Richie said sheepishly.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why does this keep happening to me?" 

Richie didn't need to ask what he meant. First, the shapeshifting clown and now witches. This was probably not what Stan signed up for when he chose a career in law enforcement.

Bev put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's a lot but we're going to take care of this, okay? Now that we know what we're dealing with, it'll be a lot easier to put an end to it."

Richie knew that Bev was sugar coating the situation. Sure, they knew they were dealing with a witch, but they still had to figure out who it was, find them _and_ actually kill them. But Stan didn't need to know all of that, so Richie kept his mouth shut. 

"I know but what am I supposed to tell the people? They're scared, they don't understand what's happening."

"Just tell them you're doing everything you can to stop this. It's the truth, after all."

Stan gave her a small, yet genuine smile.

"Captain Uris." A young officer appeared next to them. She apologized for interrupting. "The forensics team wants to know if they can move the body."

Stan raised an eyebrow at him and Richie nodded. "Go ahead." He told her and she left the three of them alone again. "I need to go but you two can take a look around if you think that would help."

"I think we have everything we need." Bev said. "Can you send us the reports once they're filed in?"

"You got it. Let me know if something comes up." 

Richie nodded. "Aye aye, captain." He saluted him and with one final shake of his head, Stan walked away. 

"Back to the room?" Richie asked Bev when it was just the two of them.

"Yeah, we have a lot of research to do."

Richie groaned, rolling his eyes rolling dramatically. "Great."

* * *

They spent the next couple of hours trying to dig out as much information as they could on the victims. Hoping to find something that would link them together. 

Lorelai Foster was a young up and coming local writer who started her career by submitting her short stories to the town newspaper, then to local writing competitions until she finally got a publishing deal with an independent editorial in Maine. She received a few local writing awards and often did public readings of her stories at the town book store. Bev had been right, it seemed that everyone loved her. Even the people who didn't enjoy romance and love stories had nothing bad to say about her.

Some of her stories were available online and the comment section was nothing but a thread of praise and admiration. There were one or two negative opinions, but nothing to warrant her murder. Lorelai had been writing a new book at the time of her death and she had submitted the first chapter to a writing contest held by the local book store. 

The contest was advertised by the town newspaper where Lucas Gelb worked. He was in charge of the Arts & Literature Section, which featured articles about local artists, book and short stories reviews and ads for different activities taking place at the bookstore. And, more recently, an article about Lorelai Foster's tragic premature death, that encouraged the reader to pick up all her works and vote for her in the upcoming writing contest as a way to honor her memory.

"Lorelai submitted some of her early works to the newspaper and they were featured in the section that Lucas was in charge of." Richie said, lazily scrolling down in his laptop. 

"Yeah, but there's nothing that suggests they knew each other beyond a professional level."

Richie shrugged. Bev was probably right. They might have exchanged a few emails and even phone calls over the years, but the article Lucas wrote about her wasn't something you would write about a close friend. It was professional, detached. Still, Richie couldn't help but think that the connection between their deaths was right there in front of him.

He jumped when Bev's phone started ringing. He saw Ben's face appear on the screen and he grabbed it from the table before Bev could even reach for it. 

"Hey!" She cried, trying to grab her phone, but Richie was already holding it against his ear. 

"Benny! My favorite book boy!"

"Hi Richie." Ben said, chuckling softly. "How's it going?"

"Better, now that I hear from you. Bev says hi." Richie said, sticking his tongue out at her when she glared at him. 

"I thought I called her."

"Oh, you did. And I'm hurt. You never call me anymore." He pouted even if Ben couldn't see him. Bev rolled her eyes. "But it's okay, I know you like Bev more than me."

Ben spluttered and Richie could picture him blushing nervously like he did whenever he was around Beverly. Richie threw his head back, laughing and, taking advantage of his distraction, Bev jumped and grabbed her phone back. 

"Hey!" He cried in protest but Bev stuck her tongue out at him, just like he did before. 

"Hi Ben." She said and Richie made a mental note to tease her for the soft, dopey smile that appeared on her face when she said his name. "Yeah, I'm good. I was just about to call you, there's another victim. Wait for it, death by boiling―"

Richie tuned her out while she filled Ben in on the events of the day. His attention went back to his laptop, trying to figure out why a witch would want to kill a writer and a reporter. They had nothing in common⎯ different age, gender, social circle. The only thing they shared was the newspaper. 

He scrolled distractedly through the Bridgton Post web page, thinking back on the other times Bev and him had to deal with witches. Usually they acted based on negative feelings like hate, anger, resentment⎯

"Jealousy." Richie muttered to himself. The screen showed an ad for the upcoming writing contest held by the local bookstore. Suddenly he had an idea. Bev must have noticed the lightbulb go off in his head because she raised an eyebrow at him. "Put Ben on speaker."

"Okay." Bev said, giving him a weird look.

"Okay, so I think I know why whoever did this killed both Lorelai and Lucas. Remember the last time we dealt with a witch?" Bev shook her head. Richie couldn’t blame her, it was a long time ago after all. "A real estate agent who was killing off the competition one by one."

"Oh yeah. Yeah, in California right?" 

Richie nodded pointedly. "Yes, so what if whoever did this is some local writer, like Lorelai, who is trying to kill off the competition?"

Bev pursed her lips, thinking it over. "But Lucas Gelb wasn't a writer."

"He wasn't, but in his last article he encouraged people to vote for Lorelai in this writing contest to honor her memory or something, so _maybe_ the person behind this was angry that, instead of getting rid of Lorelai by killing her, they might have given her a better chance to win. People love giving prizes to dead people."

Bev nodded slowly, the wheels in her head turning. 

"So you think whoever did this is⎯ what? Another contestant in this writing event?" Ben asked, Richie almost forgot he was still on the line. 

"Bingo, Benny boy!" He said, grinning. "I mean, it makes sense right?"

"It does, actually." 

Richie gave an indignant snort. "You don't have to sound so surprised, Bev."

"Do we know the names of the contestants?"

"Hold on." Richie sat back down. He had jumped up from his chair in his excitement without realizing it. He looked down at his laptop where the ad was still displayed on the screen. 

**_Local writing contest_ **

_Are you a horror writer? Do you write poems? Romance? Action? We accept everything!_

_The only requirement is that your piece must be at least three thousand words._

_Prizes include: A publishing deal with Maine Editorials, a $300 check, gift cards to Hanlon's Novel Idea and more._

_Submit your work before May 5th._

_Final list of contestants will be posted on June 5th by Bridgton Post, as well as the submitted work from each author._

_Readers, you can vote online or at the local book store._

_The winners will be announced two weeks later, on June 20th._

_Don't let the opportunity go. Submit now!_

"The official list won't be posted until Friday." Richie said after reading the ad. 

"Lorelai and Lucas died only two days apart. We can't wait until Friday, someone else could die."

"Agreed. I think it's time to visit Hanlon's Novel Idea _._ " Richie said, already on his feet and grabbing his badge and keys, excited to be following an actual lead. He heard Bev say goodbye to Ben, promising to keep him updated, before she was following him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theories, anyone? I would love to hear them!!  
> And you probably guessed it already, but Mike will be in the next chapter. And maybe another loser as well!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or come talk to me on tumblr [jem-castairs-is-perfection](http://jem-carstairs-is-perfection.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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